This is the FOURTH book in Edgar-winner Julie Smith’s Rebecca Schwartz series.
"A delightfully modern sleuth." --Minneapolis Tribune
"If you haven't discovered Smith yet, now is the time to do so . . . Move over, Sara Paretsky." —KPFA-FM (Berkeley, CA)
WHAT'S THE ETIQUETTE WHEN YOUR HOSTESS IS ARRESTED FOR MURDER?
San Francisco lawyer Rebecca Schwartz has occasion to wonder when she and her weekend hostess, Marty Whitehead, find a body floating in the 30-foot kelp tower at the Monterey Aquarium, and Marty's promptly dragged off to the slammer.
Rebecca quickly grasps the Emily Post solution—sign on as Marty's lawyer, try to keep her client's two young kids out of the deep end, and somehow avoid drowning in the sea of lies gushing from Marty's mouth--and everyone else’s. There’s a lot of intrigue among the aquarium's oceangoing primates, as well as rumors of a pearl beyond price.
For Rebecca, the sea and all its animals have always held a huge attraction, but now her attention turns to a particularly fine specimen of homo sapiens--hot marine biologist Julio Soto. As her investigation picks up speed, she finds she better act fast to keep Julio from sleeping with the fishes he collects. Because if she doesn’t, he could be next in line for the shark tank—along with Rebecca herself.
Author's note: I wrote this after I'd written the first book in the Skip Langdon Police Procedural Series, which is a much darker proposition than the Rebecca Schwartz books. Usually. But some readers have remarked that this one is a good deal darker than the three previous titles in the series. It does have some scary scenes, but I think Rebecca kept her sense of humor. Try it--money back if you don't like it! I promise. Just write me at juleorleans@cox.net. --Thanking you in advance for your kind indulgence--Julie Smith
"Nobody gets inside her characters like Julie Smith." -Linda Barnes, author of the Carlotta Carlyle series
"Smith is a gifted writer." -The Washington Post Book World
Excerpt:
“Damn!”
“What is it?”
“The lights are off.”
The kelp forest was dark.
“The lights are on the roof. They usually have them on for night parties,” said Marty. “I forgot they might be off. Tell you what we’ll do—we’ll call the control room and get them turned on. The surge machine, too.”
We walked down the stairs to the first floor, where there’s a little gallery in front of the kelp forest. Here the floor is carpeted, and there are a few stair-step benches where you can sit in case you become mesmerized and unable to move.
Marty left me and went to the information desk to use the phone. In a moment, the lights lit the tank, as if the house lights had gone up on a stage. A big gold garibaldi darted away, startled. A sea cucumber, spiny and, to tell you the truth, somewhat revolting, had pasted itself to the far wall. Leopard sharks glided by, and thin, black-tailed senoritas. A rockfish, looking baleful, flapped its pectoral fins like wings. I was staring back at it, wondering if it was trying to make friends (and knowing better), when the surge machine went on.
The kelp, twenty-eight feet tall, as impressive in its own way as a stand of redwoods, began to sway. Water swirled as if a wave had hit, which is what the surge simulates, and an object caught in the forest worked its way loose. It looked like a gray jacket, windbreaker-style, with a red splatter on it. Another foreign object floated gracefully toward the bottom—a woman’s high heel. Automatically, I looked up.
"A delightfully modern sleuth." --Minneapolis Tribune
"If you haven't discovered Smith yet, now is the time to do so . . . Move over, Sara Paretsky." —KPFA-FM (Berkeley, CA)
WHAT'S THE ETIQUETTE WHEN YOUR HOSTESS IS ARRESTED FOR MURDER?
San Francisco lawyer Rebecca Schwartz has occasion to wonder when she and her weekend hostess, Marty Whitehead, find a body floating in the 30-foot kelp tower at the Monterey Aquarium, and Marty's promptly dragged off to the slammer.
Rebecca quickly grasps the Emily Post solution—sign on as Marty's lawyer, try to keep her client's two young kids out of the deep end, and somehow avoid drowning in the sea of lies gushing from Marty's mouth--and everyone else’s. There’s a lot of intrigue among the aquarium's oceangoing primates, as well as rumors of a pearl beyond price.
For Rebecca, the sea and all its animals have always held a huge attraction, but now her attention turns to a particularly fine specimen of homo sapiens--hot marine biologist Julio Soto. As her investigation picks up speed, she finds she better act fast to keep Julio from sleeping with the fishes he collects. Because if she doesn’t, he could be next in line for the shark tank—along with Rebecca herself.
Author's note: I wrote this after I'd written the first book in the Skip Langdon Police Procedural Series, which is a much darker proposition than the Rebecca Schwartz books. Usually. But some readers have remarked that this one is a good deal darker than the three previous titles in the series. It does have some scary scenes, but I think Rebecca kept her sense of humor. Try it--money back if you don't like it! I promise. Just write me at juleorleans@cox.net. --Thanking you in advance for your kind indulgence--Julie Smith
"Nobody gets inside her characters like Julie Smith." -Linda Barnes, author of the Carlotta Carlyle series
"Smith is a gifted writer." -The Washington Post Book World
Excerpt:
“Damn!”
“What is it?”
“The lights are off.”
The kelp forest was dark.
“The lights are on the roof. They usually have them on for night parties,” said Marty. “I forgot they might be off. Tell you what we’ll do—we’ll call the control room and get them turned on. The surge machine, too.”
We walked down the stairs to the first floor, where there’s a little gallery in front of the kelp forest. Here the floor is carpeted, and there are a few stair-step benches where you can sit in case you become mesmerized and unable to move.
Marty left me and went to the information desk to use the phone. In a moment, the lights lit the tank, as if the house lights had gone up on a stage. A big gold garibaldi darted away, startled. A sea cucumber, spiny and, to tell you the truth, somewhat revolting, had pasted itself to the far wall. Leopard sharks glided by, and thin, black-tailed senoritas. A rockfish, looking baleful, flapped its pectoral fins like wings. I was staring back at it, wondering if it was trying to make friends (and knowing better), when the surge machine went on.
The kelp, twenty-eight feet tall, as impressive in its own way as a stand of redwoods, began to sway. Water swirled as if a wave had hit, which is what the surge simulates, and an object caught in the forest worked its way loose. It looked like a gray jacket, windbreaker-style, with a red splatter on it. Another foreign object floated gracefully toward the bottom—a woman’s high heel. Automatically, I looked up.
